


smoky eyes

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eyeliner, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 00:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Quentin is kind of interested in trying something new; eyeliner. Eliot is more than willing to oblige.





	smoky eyes

**Author's Note:**

> canon is scaring me right now so what do i do? write eyeliner queliot sex
> 
> ★ please follow me on twitter @ queermight & check out my pinned tweet! ★

Quentin loved many, many times about Eliot. His hands, for one thing - those hands were literally, and figuratively, magic. His hair, too. Short or long; it was always soft like butter and Quentin loved running his fingers through it. 

But he was just now realizing his love for something new; his eyes, flawlessly lined with black. He'd always loved Eliot's eyes, to be fair, but this - this was something else; an obsession almost.

He watched one night as Eliot went to the sink and grabbed a wipe from a tiny, plastic container. He gently wiped his eyes a few times before tossing the wipe away and rinsing his face with water.

Eliot turned the water off with flair before turning to look at Q, resting his hip against the counter. "Staring is impolite, you know," he said through a smile.

Quentin didn't have an excuse, so he just flushed and looked away. "Sorry."

"No, no," Eliot clicked his tongue. He grabbed a towel on his way out of the bathroom and quickly dried his face before joining Quentin on the bed, the towel forgotten on their bedside table. "Tell me."

Quentin slowly looked up; Eliot looked so beautiful even like this - late at night, no makeup, hair unkempt. He smiled a little, biting his lip. "I've just been noticing your, uh," he gestured a little, "eyeliner a lot lately."

"Ohhh," Eliot leaned back, eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's interesting."

Quentin shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's nothing. It's just - "

"Looks amazing on me, right?" Eliot interrupted smugly. Quentin looked up. "I'm kidding," he continued after a moment. He reached out, petting Q's hair. "Want to try some?"

Quentin blinked. Once, twice. That idea had never even crossed his mind, not in all his time of admiring Eliot and his beautiful, smoky eyes. But he knew how this would go; there was no chance in hell that stuff would look half as good on him as Eliot, and then his confidence would take a nosedive and it wasn't very good to begin with-

"Q," Eliot said softly, cupping his face. "You don't have to. It was just an offer."

Eliot smiled sweetly at him, thumbs stroking his cheekbones lovingly, and fuck, he really, really wanted to do it. "I want to," he said, the words almost mixing together he was speaking so fast. "Please."

"Okay," Eliot laughed, patting his cheek once before getting up. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out a small, stained bag. Quentin made a face as he walked back over. "Oh, shut up."

Quentin laughed, scooting to the edge of the bed. Eliot placed the bag on the bedside table and dug out a small, worn-down pencil. "Eyeliner," Eliot corrected, rolling his eyes. He pulled off the lid and placed a hand on Q's shoulder. "Stay still."

"Yes, sir," Quentin replied lazily, staring up at the taller man. 

Eliot's mouth quirked. "I could get used to that," he purred as he placed a finger under Quentin's left eye and gently pulled down. Quentin startled a bit when he first felt the tip of the pencil touching his waterline. "Is' okay," Eliot muttered. "Just stay still."

After a short moment, Eliot moved to the next eye and repeated the steps.

"Okay," Eliot stepped back. Quentin blinked a few times; his eyes burned for a second or two before the feeling faded away. "Oh my God," Eliot kept his eyes on Q, even as he reached over and dropped the pencil back in his makeup bag.

Quentin curled in on himself; a habit he thought he'd been growing out of, but apparently not. He touched right under his eyes. "I look stupid as fuck, don't I?"

"Fuck no," Eliot replied. He reached out, gently brushing Quentin's hands away, and cupped his face. "You look fucking hot, Q."

Quentin laughed sheepishly. "You don't have to - "

"I am not," he interrupted firmly, squeezing his face. "You look so hot I want you on my dick, like, right now."

Quentin turned his face to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of Eliot's hand. He stared at Eliot. "That can be arranged."

"I like this newfound confidence of yours," Eliot breathed. He reluctantly removed his hands from Q's face to get on the bed. The blanket was thrown off to the side, his fingers and feet sinking into expensive silk. He settled against the headboard, spreading his legs. "Come here."

Quentin bit his lip and crawled forward, resting between the warm heat of Eliot's legs. He leaned forward at Eliot's command, and then they were kissing. Quentin also loved that about Eliot - he was a really, really good kisser.

He knew when to be soft and gentle, and when to kiss like an animal, sloppy and overflowing with passion. Right now, it was the latter.

Quentin immediately went slack; he loved the distinct difference between sex with Eliot and, well... his other experiences. With everyone else, he was always expected to take the lead. Sure, that was fun on the occasion, but frankly Quentin liked sex most when he could just... let go, relax.

Eliot knew that, and apparently loved it (as he had said so many times before).

After a while, Eliot pulled back, brushing some hair out of Quentin's face. Eliot looked especially beautiful like this; lips glistening with spit, a little swollen. 

"Clothes," he purred, running his hands up and down Q's sides. "Terrible invention."

Quentin grinned lazily. Eliot thankfully only had a pair of sweatpants on, but Quentin was slightly more... enclosed. He tugged his shirt off, only struggling for a few seconds when his head got stuck in the collar. Eliot laughed, the special kind of laugh he only had when he was in the moment; low and breathy.

Next he got his pants off, and his underwear quickly after.

"Your turn," Quentin purred - okay, his voice did not sound quite as good doing that. He'd save that for Eliot. Lesson learned. 

Smiling, Eliot lifted his hips off the bed and shimmied out of his sweatpants. Unlike Quentin, he was not wearing any underwear and for some reason that was really, really hot. Quentin audibly swallowed. 

He settled back in Eliot's lap. "We need - "

Before he could even finish his thought, a line of condoms landed on the bed near Eliot's leg. He snorted, leaning forward to briefly kiss Eliot's jaw. 

"Now," Eliot placed his hands on the small of Quentin's back, lazily drawing a pattern on his skin. Quentin rested his head against Eliot's shoulder as the familiar wetness filled him up; it was weird - always would be - but not unwelcomed. Saved them lots of money on lube, at least.

Quentin went to work on Eliot's neck as the other man slowly began to open him up. One finger at first, like always, before quickly adding a second and finally a third. By the third, Quentin was always kind of hopeless. He couldn't really do much of anything, just focus on the overwhelming want bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"El," he whined pitifully, burying his face in Eliot's neck. His next word was muffled, "please."

Eliot kissed the top of his head as he slipped the condom on. "Whatever you want, darling," he whispered. Quentin buried his face deeper, letting out a series of sobs - the good kind, of course. Well, mostly, the first push of Eliot's dick always burned a little. He wasn't stupidly big, not like the stuff you saw in porn, but he was thick.

And in Quentin's professional opinion? That was way, way more important. 

After a few seconds, Eliot bottomed out. He breathed shakily. "Come on, baby," he said, pressing a hand in Quentin's hair and pulling. Gently at first, but increasingly harder. "Let me see you."

Swallowing a sob, Quentin pulled his face out of the crook of Eliot's neck and blinked. His vision was blurry because of the tears, but he didn't need to see Eliot to know how he looked like this; beautiful, as always.

"Q," he whispered. He laughed breathlessly. "Fuck." He reached out, cupping Quentin's face. "You look... fuck, why didn't we do this sooner?"

The eyeliner had been hot, yes, but Quentin with the eyeliner smeared around his eyes, a little bit running down his face, was even hotter. Eliot growled once, low in his throat. He used a thumb to swipe a bit of the eyeliner away. 

"G - go on," Quentin cleared his throat, leaning forward, "move."

Eliot didn't need to be told twice. He started to thrust slowly at first. Quentin kissed him lazily, messily. After a while, he started to pick up the pace; Quentin was so far gone he couldn't even kiss anymore, just buried his face in Eliot's shoulder and let out gasp, moan, gasp. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Q was the one to break first. He came all over their stomachs, making a mess of them. Eliot didn't care, of course, if anything the sight just pushed him closer to the edge. He gripped Quentin by the hips and picked up speed. With a few quick, sharp thrusts, he was coming, too. 

They didn't move for a long time. Quentin curled up against Eliot's chest, still resting his head on his shoulder. Eliot rubbed his back lazily. With his free hand, he conducted a short spell to clean them up. 

"That," Quentin grinned tiredly, "was really nice."

Eliot smiled back. Reaching up, he wiped a bit more of the eyeliner residue away. "Agreed."


End file.
